


Cartography of the Heart

by red_day_dawning



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Slash, snarry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-18
Updated: 2010-12-18
Packaged: 2017-10-13 18:03:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/140146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_day_dawning/pseuds/red_day_dawning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lost and found, again and again, in every possible reality:  three unrelated snarry vignettes.<br/><i>No printed maps mark the paths home, there are no pages written with directions to guide the heart.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Cartography of the Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: JKR and associated companies own the HP characters and settings, no profit made, no copyright infringement intended.  
> Originally written and posted at Insanejornal and Livjournal's snarry100 and Insanejournal's 2010 adventdrabbles. Prompts: Feast; Christmas candle; Sleigh bells.  
> Warning/s: angst; seeming character death. Non-linear plot sequences; ficlets with alternate continuity.

**A Feast for Death**

Acres of bones, jumbled together. An infant’s delicate rib-cage balancing against a large yellowed femur; a massive jaw-bone crushing the filigreed ivory of a tiny skeletal hand. As far as the eye could see, a desert of pale bones. A feast for Death.

Harry looked around in every direction, his dream-vision expanding almost to horizon’s reach. Nothing but bones. Bare bones. A dry, dusty wind scratched at his hair. Sighing, he began to walk, each dream-step stretching further than the length of his gait. He walked until his throat was dry and his lips bled, his water bottle now empty.

 

Magic did not work here, he knew. He kept walking, agony with each step, jagged bones cutting through shoe leather to tear his flesh. Unable to walk anymore, he dropped to the parched, stony ground and wondered how long before the flesh would rot from his bones, under this light that never brightened or dimmed.

He woke to a gentle touch on his head, a voice coaxing him to drink. He gulped down mouthfuls of cool, metallic-tasting water and blinked the grit from his eyes. He looked up and his bleeding mouth stretched into a smile. “Severus, I found you.”

~*~

 **Cartography of the Heart**

No printed maps mark the paths home, there are no pages written with directions to guide the heart. On this winter’s eve, the most solitary of men must find his way alone.

At his feet lay a newspaper, bold headlines proclaiming: _LADIES, HE’S A FREE MAN: Harry’s Divorce Finalized as Rumours of Ginny’s Long-time Lover Confirmed._ He closed his eyes and imagined a map. Etched behind his eyelids, limned as though aflame, the borders and contours of a land. Here run rivers, red as fresh blood, there lie valleys and stark crested hills. And there, in the direction he might call south-west, he felt it - a flare of bright warmth, a newly lit candle flame. Following that sense of warmth, he opened his eyes to Apparate away.

Squares of candlelit windows illuminate snow-covered paths. Next to the front door, in a window without curtains, stands a red Christmas candle. A single bright, warm flame. Taking a deep breath, the man once known as Severus Snape takes a step forward, his hand raised to ring the door bell.

~*~

 **Ice and Fire**

Harry fell head first into a wall of white, his limbs collapsing beneath him. Frost burnt with searing cold; he was vaguely surprised to be alive. He tried to lift his head and failed, and then simply struggled to breathe. Trapped deep within the snow drift, he could not reach his wand. He was beyond shivering and past cold, only pain remained, frozen in his flesh and trapped in ice filled veins.

“Severus,” he thought. “... kill me if I wasn’t already dying, no, dead. Severus. Sleep now.” His heartbeat slowed and his eyes closed. Behind his eyelids burst a bright light, whiter than the snow that would be his death.

Sounds, sleigh bells jingling, a voice speaking. The return of that bright light. A muttering of swear-words. Warmth whispering against his ear, “Idiot boy. Do you do these things to torment me?”

Embraced, carried in strong arms, warmth, beloved warmth. The disorientation of unexpected Apparation. Wintergreen, the smell of home, the sharp-scented foliage that grew in their garden. Home. Warmth. Safety. Bliss. Warm pressure against his lips, sweet kisses, heating as their tongues entwined.

“You’re awake now,” a familiar voice said. “I do believe you may survive.”

“Severus, I think I was in Narnia. The White Witch was there, I heard the bells on her sleigh...”

“You’re blithering, Harry, and make no sense. ‘Narnia’ was a localized blizzard, a Frost-curse centered in your flesh. There was no sleigh. And believe me, Rabastan and Rodolphus cannot be described as white witches. Next time bind them _before_ they curse you, instead of achieving the impossible and managing to bind them as you’re nobly dying.. Here, drink this, it’s Pepper Up.”

Harry drank, and settled his back against the solid warmth of Severus’ chest. Wrapping a cocoon of blankets around them both, Severus spelled their clothing away and held Harry close in his arms. Heat surrounded Harry, suffused every cell, intoxicating bliss. This was safety, this was warmth, this was the temperature of joy.

“S’sorry, Severus.”

“Hush, idiot boy. There, look there out of the window. Your savior. My saving grace.”

In the distance stood a brightly glowing stag, waiting until a silvery doe trotted to join him. Severus and Harry watched as the deer ran together through shadowed trees, shining like brightest moonlight.

~Fin~


End file.
